


Rose Pruner

by orphan_account



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Bloodplay, F/M, Female Pronouns for Grell Sutcliff, Grelliam, Punishment, Sexual Violence, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2019-01-07 19:53:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12239577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: After Jack the Ripper, Grell is expecting punishment for her crimes - by the man she loves the most.





	Rose Pruner

**Author's Note:**

> Ah...guess what, I'm back with my crappy writings lol This time it's quite the contrary from what I wrote in my last piece. This fic shows a problematic, brutal side of Grell/William and I'll explore the reason for Jack the Ripper in (maybe) future chapters a bit. Also this story is connected to my other one, it just plays earlier in the time line. Have fun! Big thanks to Shinigami-Mistress for proof-reading once again <3

_ “Break me down and build me up.” _

 

Spicy cigarette smoke invaded her nose. A tight grip of his cold, gloved hand snapped around her delicate neck, cold and rough like a pair of iron tongs, before she was pushed down brutally into the dark table with a quick but forceful motion. Her trembling body caused a loud thud when it crashed against the hard, wooden surface and she gasped - pleading, quiet mewls of fear escaping her dry throat when she felt the tall man close behind her.    
  
Paper sheets, those he had abandoned an hour ago, flapped over the desk and landed softly on the ground like feathers gliding through a soft breeze. Long, brunette locks, fixed in a ponytail with a bloody red ribbon fell over her back when she was pressed forward, her lungs exhaling quickly. Panic struck her, a bolt of sharp pain shot through her ribcage every time she took a fast breath.  
  


There was no escape. And the plain truth was that she had never even considered to flee because she didn’t want to run away. It was  _ him _ after all.  _ Her _ William.  
  


Why would she ran away from the person she loved the most in the entire world? More than anyone, anything? More than herself?  
  


Cool air kissed her naked, slender thighs when she felt her already opened black Reaper uniform pants sliding down, along her lean legs to come to rest at her ankles, exposing her to the most intimate level. The fluorescent, mysterious green eyes of her punisher, hidden behind rimmed glasses, scanned her revealed, tiny waist, slender hips and her soft butt, that was covered by a gentle, but fancy red silky, sweetly ruffled slip.  
  


Oh, what a waste, he almost said out loud while he was puffing his cigarette, his heart aching, a rueful sigh escaped his mouth when William’s fingertips felt the hotness of the rosy skin on her glorious ass through the black leather.  
  
  
Her gasp, inaudible.  
  


Grell didn't dare to look behind when his gloved digits slid over her slender, effeminate and well-shaped body. A body William worshipped and adored. Without even needing any visual confirmation, she could feel his stone-cold, upbraiding eyes shooting arrows of accusations and disappointment into her back.    
  
And she would gladly ingest them. Every single one of this painful bullet that was perforating her flesh, her bones, her mind, straight through her fragile heart. She expected that tons of reproaches would hail down on her.

  
Instead of sneaking a peek of this wonderful, smoking man behind her shaking form, she stared right out of the window where the gloomy darkness of the young night greeted her from outside. Cold sweat glistened on her forehead which caused her brown, stringy strands of hair stick to her temples. The monotone song of gentle rain drops clashed against the glass here and there, suddenly mixed with the rustling of clothes and then...a metallic click that sent shivers down her spine.

  
That was it.  
  
  
His Death Scythe.  
  
  
Death...Scythe.  
  
  
Grell's fingers pressed against the desk as she stopped her shaky breath for a second when the fatal sound reached her ears. The sound that would seal her fate for tonight. The sound of…  
  


Death.  
  


Her green eyes, glimmering with anticipation, regret and...fear focused a pile of paper and his inactive working notebook in front of her on the desk. So much fear, it was nauseating. And she would take it all. For him. For the Dispatch. For herself.

  
"Please...be gentle, Darling..."   
  


Her voice, only a pleading whisper, so pathetic, so small. Just like the pitiful, murderous girl behind that innocent disguise of hers, the appearance that would represent her inner frailty and incertitude.  
  


She was so tiny, so negligible to him now, forcing her to do nothing more than to give in, surrender to his severe eyes and savage treatment like a defeated, hunted animal.  
  


William didn't respond but the tension was so strong and dominant. It almost drove her crazy that he wouldn't say a thing when all she wanted was to hear his voice. Only these cold orbs were still assaulting her body and mind, no words, no audible gesture, and she knew very well she couldn't expect any mercy this time.   
  
The way he had pulled her by the hair made her gasp in awe. Blood rushed through her veins down into her groin when she smelled the cigarette stench mixed with his musky aftershave and when she felt leathery, cool fingers hooking behind her panties. William pulled them down, slowly and impatiently at the same time to expose her fully. Oh, what an embarrassment, what a humiliation. He didn’t stop, he wouldn’t hold back. He wouldn’t.   
  


Her delicate butt cheeks were separated by his cool fingers, and William squeezed them up just to let them bounce back together a few seconds later. She heard him growl silently but very much angered into her direction and she could feel her lower muscles and semi-hard arousal twitch in excitement when his thumb curiously rubbed over her sphincter. One of his divine hands was lovely teasing her scrotum, petting her butt, kneading it so softly and-   
  


“Ahh!”  
  


Grell twitched and hissed in pain at the burning sensation. William pressed his thumb down into the perfect, scrumptious butt cheek before him, dousing his cigarette on the soft skin which made her crying out loudly.  
  


“Damn…!!”, Grell cursed through her teeth, waiting for the burning pain to subside.  
  


But she knew that wouldn’t be enough. William blew the last drag of smoke from his lungs into her face before he took the Scythe.  
  


Grell closed her watery eyes the moment William shifted and she saw and felt it coming but it was too late to-  
  


"Haah!!"  
  
  
She screamed, keened and flinched when a cold, sharp metallic pair of shears smashed down on her ass cheeks, leaving a bruise and a bleeding cut behind, a passionate red painting her of the colors of a rose.   
  


The pain...the pain! A thousand times worse than the burning ember of a cigarette!  
  


Her knees gave in, nearly collapsing from the shock and she was glad the table held her full weight when the unbearable pain almost numbed out her senses.   
  
"Ah...ah...Darling...", Grell panted, adrenaline suddenly rushing through her veins up into the smallest capillary.

 

“Agh…”

  
Tears formed in her dark green orbs, silver pearls of regret and shame ran over her face. What had she done to him? Done to herself?

All she wanted was...to be with him. To feel him, being held by him - the thirst for his love was unquenchable. 

  
Another pathetic mewl, so small and insignificant. William narrowed his eyes down on her, his lips pressed together in anger before he adjusted his glasses and tipped her tight ass with the pointy end of his pruner blade. The cut had ceased to bleed after a minute and he cursed, so disgusted by the red stripe he'd sliced into her flesh. An ugly wound that ruined her beautiful, milky, pristine booty. The ass he loved so much. The ass he wanted to kiss, rim, fuck and worship instead of mutilating it with her own blood.   
  
William's gloved hand left her butt and started to choke her neck softly, pulling out a helpless, irritated moan from her throat when he bent forward and kissed the back of her head, his own hidden erection pressing against her perineal. 

Grell’s screams, her personal scent, mixed with traces of her flowery perfume was so enticing, though he could also smell cold sweat of fear paired with heated arousal when he pressed her down against the desk and the pruner slashed over her serene skin once more.

 

"Ahh!"   
  


And again.

 

“Will!”

 

And again.

 

“Stop, please!”

 

And again.

 

“Oh, Darling...I love...you so m-”

  
Unable to finish her sentence, a loud sob emerged from her full lips, sharp pain washing over her into every cell of her abused body, more tears welling up that would stain her pretty face just the way her blood had stained the office floor.  
  


This...this was it. This was absolute hell.  
  


Not the most terrifying demon could make her feel that way. The nasty injuries caused by William’s Death Scythe - onslaughts which came straight from his own broken heart - a nightmare.

Crimson fluid ran over her butt down her tights and it felt alright. Alright. Alright.  
  


"S-stop...please...no more..."  
  
  
William flinched when her desperate scream reached his ears and he didn’t hesitate to add another deep cut, his vision blurred by upcoming tears he tried to avoid. The next few hits of the Scythe slammed brutally against her thighs, those would leave dark bruises all over them later and Grell couldn’t help but cry out in pain and desperation every time the Death Scythe collided with her tender flesh.

  
"All these women cried at you like that when you sliced them open to eviscerate them alive, Sutcliff. Have you payed any attention to them when they were struggling with death, when they begged you to spare their lives?", William grunted, clearly enraged and he stabbed the tip of the Pruner very slowly into her butt until he could see blood.

  
Grell couldn't hold back her tears anymore, all now streaming down her freckled face and she cried out in pain as the Scythe dashed forward again, down into her skin to break her.

 

And it  _ hurt _ . It hurt, hurt, hurt so much. 

 

He was so sadistic. Just like…

 

Just like her.

 

The pruner blade had successfully cut off the rose from the bush.   
  
"I...didn’t care...for-" 

 

She failed in her voice when another cut teared her skin. Grell was unable to give a proper answer, since the intense pain almost made her throwing up. It was so strong, that it made her feel and imagine William - his Death Scythe - had just severed her lower body from her torso, like he had separated the passionate, fragile flower from its stem - and she would bleed out to death.

Death.  
  


Death.   
  
  
Yes, these women. These dirty, ugly whores who didn't know how lucky they were to own everything Grell ever wished for but simply didn't have - and never would.   
  
These stupid, heartless bitches who threw away their unborn children like trash.   
  
And then...there was Angelina. Madame Red. Her lovely Madame. The Lady she always wanted to be. Angelina…the elegant doctor, Aristocrat of Evil, a role model. Grell felt so close to her and yet their hearts beat in a different rhythm. Madame Red, the clever woman she could associate with the most and the only human she grew so close to, had slipped out of her hands - forever and ever now. And it was her fault. All her fault.

 

"Yes, you didn't give a shit about anyone, Sutcliff."   
  


Grell yanked up her head, eyes widened in shock and she wanted to protest.

  
No.  _ No _ . That wasn't true! She cared for someone. For  _ him _ . For only...him.

  
"William, please, I beg you! Listen to me...I-”

  
Grell's disguise slowly faded. William pulled out the red ribbon and at her fringes, the brunette color of some strands turning into a bright red again before pushing her head down on his desk to silence her. Grell shivered and moaned when she felt the cold tip of the Pruner blade tenderly tracing the insides of her bloody butt cheeks, stopping right over her sphincter before it went down to embrace the base of her soft and delicate scrotum with the sharp pair of shears.

Just one wrong movement, one quick cut and she would definitely bleed to death - in his divine arms.

“You had absolutely no chill to remove the reproductive organs of these women. Would you like to know how it feels to severe them straight from the body just the way  _ you _ did to those poor  _ ladies _ ?”, William asked calmly, though she couldn't overhear the boiling fury in his voice, and he pressed the pruner shears slowly together until he could hear another emotional, pathetic outburst from Grell.

“I wouldn’t mind... I don’t...care about this body. This wrong...disgusting, ugly body of mine…”, she cried in defense, though not daring to move an inch with the deadly scissors lingering between her legs which were ready to cut off her genitals. 

“Is that so?” William’s face was unreadable.

“Who cares anyway?”, she sobbed quietly. “The only person I love likes true Ladies without any blood on her hands. And Ladies don’t have a body...like I do, right?” Grell blinked away her sorrowful tears, when her dizzy thoughts went back to Madame Red shortly.

“So, cut them off. You would do me a great favour, Darling…”

William wouldn’t have let her go if she had tried to escape. And even if it hurt, she wanted this and she wouldn’t mind dying in William’s arms here and now, slaughtered by his amazing hands. Grell still desperately yearned for his attention, touch and...love. Always. Until the end.

“Dying in your embrace would be...such an honour to me, Will…the most beautiful death in the world...”

“You’re sick. A gender-confused idiot, Sutcliff.”

“That may be…”, Grell smiled ruefully, closing her swollen eyes with these long lashes, lowering her neck until her forehead met the table. “But it’s my choice.”

“You’re talking and thinking delusional bullshit. You want to be a fine Lady, but all you’re doing is degrading yourself and ask me to end your life in order to solve your stupid Lady-problem.”

He loved her. He loved her so much. He loved every corner of her body. Why wouldn’t she believe him? Even after so many decades, even after he had assured her so many times that he fell in love with her person and not with her body, that he didn’t mind her sex, Grell was still doubting that her male body was not suitable for her...and for him. That it was...incorrectly written by God. Wrong. Ugly. Not enough. Never been enough.

William shook his head, regret washed over him when he realized how Grell had started to hate herself and her physical appearance once again. 

Was that...the driving force behind Jack the Ripper?

Wasn’t he giving her enough love and confirmation so that she had slipped out of his hands again? Not enough love to make her feel beautiful, safe, feel secure about herself?

Grell smiled tearily through long, wet eyelashes at the silent pause between them, though her stomach tickled when she heard him insulting her so cruelly. Yes, that was her William. Those harsh words of his. Endearing. And he was so right.

“I’m sorry. So sorry for everything.”

“No, you are not sorry...you pretend you are but you are just insane.", William growled in entire disbelief, not accepting any apology or explanation because he knew Grell hardly had any regrets. He saw it in her eyes and smile. There was absolutely no reason for a Reaper to interfere the mortal realm and kill individuals that were not on their list. What Grell did was wrong, no matter the twisted reason she had in her head for murdering those women. Grell’s argument had to be invalid.

The pruner loses around her and she dared to smile again, still avoiding his eyes. 

“What is it, Darling? Are we a little coward?”

His Death Scythe quickly went down into her flesh again as a response to her provocating question for continued punishment, leaving tiny cuts and bruises until her rosy butt cheeks were tinted in liquid crimson. Her cries, so sweet, yet so sorrowful. It didn’t take long until Grell’s voice was completely gone and she became silent like a rose, surrendering to the fate brought to her by her deathly gardener.

Had she ever wondered about...his feelings? How he would feel if she wouldn’t be around anymore? How he  _ felt _ when she tried to end her life 8 decades ago?

“I’m not like you.”, William replied und choked her by pulling her back against him. His fingers buried in her brunette locks, he ripped them off her scalp which made her scream until he could see her natural red hair appearing from underneath the brown layer.

“I don’t hurt or...try to  _ kill _ the ones I love.”

Grell lowered herself against him with a sniffle, her disguise gone, and sweaty bangs of red, perfumed hair was now covering her incredibly beautiful visage; the glowing emerald eyes of a blood-thirsty Reaper finally visible but she was still almost unable to speak.

She looked breathtaking.

“Of course not…”, she whispered hoarsely and let William remove her round, rimless glasses off her nose before his hand sneaked into the pocket of her coat next to her on the desk, grabbing her broken, iconic red pair of spectacles that would replace the other one.

Broken by that demon scum who had beaten her up so precisely.

No. It wasn’t William who hurt her. It was herself who brought her into this situation. Just like she did 80 years ago when she thought William cheated on her with a French girl and as a result of this she went nuts, ruthlessly aiming for his genitals with her Death Scythe in a heated argument.

She always had been a dangerous flower.

_ Oh, beautiful, beautiful Grell...my perfect, thorny rose. _

A flower that needed to be pruned properly to stay beautiful.

“A rose who gets pruned doesn’t scream nor cries out in pain when the shears severs the bloom from the bush…”, William sighed against her ear after she had put on her useless Reaper glasses, one hand fisted in her hair and he kissed and bit into her shell while he softly fondled the leaking, thick erection between her thighs. “You have to...remove the wilted leaves and dead parts of the plant as well to make it beautiful.” 

William drew back, not having any intention to pleasure her any further, and he roughly pulled at her red hair again.

“Pruning roses helps to keep them healthy and encourage them to bloom.”, William whispers before he finally abandoned Grell to fall back into his office chair right behind her. 

He looked up to the Death Scythe in his hand and darted out his tongue to lick off Grell’s sweet blood straight from the cold steel blade.

Grell hardly dared to breath, her pants still heavy, heart racing and the warmth of his body was suddenly gone. For the first time this evening she looked around to face him a few seconds later eventually. Her red hair fell down messily into her tears-stained face, eyes of regret filled with sadness and utter bliss. 

It was  _ him _ after all. Her  _ Darling _ .

The way William had associated her with a rose, her favourite flower, and the blood, her blood, in the corner of his mouth made her shiver. He was so wonderful...such a gorgeous man. And yet so cruel, so heartless.  
  


Wait. Cruel? Heartless?  
  


Grell yelped silently when realization hit her, and she saw her own reflection, her own mistakes, her murderous crimes in him.

If someone was cruel and heartless, then it was  _ her _ .

The wounds on her butt  _ burned _ when William pulled her back by the arm and she landed against him, half-way straddling his lap, madly blushing und crying out from the pain. But his arms.

His strong, protective arms, suddenly  _ around _ her, pressing her against him.  
  


“Grell...tell me.”  
  


William’s voice, his lovely voice, so tired and so close to the edge of crying. She could hear it. Grell sniffled and sobbed into the crook of his neck when she heard him, hands buried in his suit jacket not wanting to let him go, while William’s hands caressed her trembling, injured back in long, soft strokes.  
  


“What has become of us…?”  
  


She weeped against his shoulder, unable to answer his question because the stinging cuts on her body distracted her too much. They pulsed in more painful waves with each second, synchronized with the rhythm of her beating heart; pleasurable, quick, intense. Just the way she loved and despised it at the same time. How wicked.

But the question still remained and she wanted an answer, just as desperately as he wanted. Where were the days when they could laugh together like they did as younger Reapers? Their happier, brighter days when they could trust each other without any implications of misunderstandings and insincerity? The days they shared kisses of pure and innocent love? The days they held hands while walking through the Dispatch park at midnight? Where had they gone?

“I miss the days where we could just...lay in each other's arms until dawn breaks and we...would go reaping together...”, William admitted, his voice shaky, desperately trying to suppress a sob and these unexpected tears behind his gleaming spectacles.

Once again Grell had destroyed lives out of nothing but egoistic purposes including her own. Once again she successfully managed to hurt the one and only person she loved the most. Once again she brought herself to a point, where she could’ve been executed as a Reaper for breaking important rules and strict laws.

And once again he had to save her from herself.

“Why, Grell…?”

William’s arms still held her trembling body, ignoring her lively erection between them. And she was so hard. Of course it wasn’t a secret to him that close body contact and pain appealed to her in some way and when he started to wipe off the blood from her butt to treat her wounds with some medical gel, she couldn’t help but moan lightly in response.

“You wouldn’t understand…”, Grell sniffled, voice thin and broken as she rested her heavy head on his shoulder, too reverent to look into his glassy orbs. 

“I...did it all for you, Darling…no, for us...”

William gritted his teeth, stopped the treatment of her wounds, her whiny voice so annoying when it was paired with the egoistic content of her words. For a second he thought he'd misheard her.

She murdered all those prostitutes and killed Angelina Durless for  _ him _ ?   


“Are you serious?”

“You were asking me for the why-question. Do you think I’m kidding…? I said I would do everything for you...”

“You’re so fucking insane.”

“Probably, yes…but this wouldn’t change the fact that I...killed those ugly women for you. Because I love you, Darling...”

Grell smiled wickedly against his collarbone, nuzzling her nose into his neck, inhaling his musky aftershave and she closed her eyes to blink away the tears again, so happy that she was allowed to stay near him in such an intimate hug. There was nothing more wonderful in this cruel world than to feel her beloved William so close to her. Being allowed to enjoy his warm embraces and kisses in hours of splendid cuddle sessions was her paradise.

Just like their old days...

 

“Forgive me…”

 

William eyed her from the side, aghast. Grell clearly had losing her mind and morals.

A few seconds later she found herself pushed away, falling to the hard ground and out of Cloud Nine, coldness surrounding her again and a painful gasp escaped her lips when she landed hard on her injured butt.

“You disgust me. I don’t want to be the reason for your gruesome, twisted murders, Grell.” 

William pulled off his bloody tie and threw it down on Grell’s half-naked, abused body and she could feel hot tears dripping down her face again. The way she was treated by him like trash... Oh, so cruel...so heartless and icy...just like her.

Like her. And her crimes.

Like the way she had treated Angelina Durless and the other women. The Ladies. “True” Ladies. Ladies who fueled the envy inside her. And they had to pay with their lives.

“William, I...I’m really sorry…listen to me, I...l-let me explain-”

“Out of my sight. I don’t want to see you anymore.”, he growled, deeply unsettled and he threw a serious glance into her direction. A glance that ripped through her to the bones.

 

Grell’s voice squealed softly with a sob and her heart twitched in pain when she heard him saying those harsh words, those cruel demands that would kill her inside and make her cock twitch in delight at the same time.

“But, Darling…” Grell crawled on all four into his direction, bending down, her trembling mouth meeting the cool leather of his black shoes for a submissive kiss.

“Shut up. Leave!”, William said once again, waiting until Grell made a move to leave his office - which didn’t happen. Instead she came closer to him, staring at him from her watery eyes, already swollen from all the crying.

“We belong together, Dear…”, she keened, so pathetic, her nails digging into the fabric of his suit pants, hungry for his love when she bent up, pointing her lips for a kiss and she laid her palm down on his hard bulge, massaging softly.

“I am not repeating myself. Fuck off, Sutcliff!”

“Ahh!!”

William kicked her off brutally into the chest when she came up to him to cling to his body, begging, ready to satisfy him in any way possible in hope to make things right.  
  


But he wouldn’t give in. He wouldn’t surrender to his inner desires of love and twisted affection to her like she did. He wasn’t that weak, that forlorn, was he?  
  


“Tomorrow morning you will meet the executive personnel of the regulatory agency. You will be suspended from your current job.”

William avoided her eyes this time when he spoke the raw truth. 

No. This was her punishment. And her atonement. And his duty was to keep her in check. He couldn’t have let her win this delusional game.

Grell’s sobs filled his office for a few seconds until she rolled over, defeated, tired. She could hardly stand on her two legs after she had gotten up, still crying and moaning from the burning pain on her face, thighs and butt. With trembling fingers she grabbed her red coat, the last reminiscence of Angelina Durless, and finally intended to leave her abusive supervisor’s office in tears of confusion and regret.

She walked to the door on her naked butt with a limp, opened it and turned around, facing him with desperate emeralds for one last time. He really wanted her to go. And she felt sick. So sick…  
  


Grell gave him a last smile. A broken smile.

 

Because she still loved him. And he deserved it.

 

“Darling...I know, it was hard for you, too…”

 

William didn’t respond, just waited until she had disappeared out of the door. His now naked fingers slid up and down the Pruner in his hand, cleaning it from Grell’s blood.

 

The blood of a wilted, rotten rose.

 

William leaned back in the chair after the door had fallen shut, Death Scythe resting on his lap where Grell had cuddled up to him minutes ago. She murdered for him. This time she had run riot. And all he could do was to punish her for being so insane, so wrong. Punishing was his duty. His fate for being her supervisor consisted of hurting the woman he wanted to marry one day, the woman he loved from the bottom of his heart. He had to be cruel to her, just as she was cruel to him.

William removed his own glasses and put them down on the desk as his eyes watered once again. Her sweet, characteristic perfume still lingered in his nose, mixed with the faintly smell of her blood. 

 

Was that the essence of their relationship? Of their affection? Did they have to hurt themselves to cope with their own anxiety of losing each other and as an attempt to reach out to their love again?

 

No. He was weak and desperate as well. Too weak to hurt her seriously, too desperate to let her go and admit that he needed her most than anything else in this cursed world, as he was addicted for her never ending love, her smile, her bubbly voice, her hugs and warmth.

 

Everything of her.

 

Tears rolled down his cheeks, tears of loneliness and shame which suddenly hit him hard and he quickly wiped them off with the back of his gloved, blood-stained hand. 

 

_ “I know, ...it was hard for you, too…” _

 

Grell’s frantic words rang in his ear. She had been punished and paid for it in some way now, and he honestly, desperately hoped that maybe time would just make her wrong-doing no longer important.

 

And that he could forgive her one day. A second time already.

**Author's Note:**

> Eek...poor babies. I wrote this while I was listening to Imagine Dragons btw and their song "Whatever it takes" inspired me. Anyway, thanks for reading!


End file.
